


The Double

by doop_doop



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Doppelganger, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Game(s), Reunions, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doop_doop/pseuds/doop_doop
Summary: Sylvain laughed, though to Felix’s ears the sound rang false. “It’s a bit of a romantic idea, isn’t it? That when I was near death, my soul fled my body and came to visit you one last time?”Two years after their last meeting, a strange apparition brings Felix to Sylvain's doorstep.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 159





	The Double

Felix awoke sharply sometime before dawn. On instinct he reached for his sword, only to find it was missing - no, not missing, but not there to begin with, for he hadn’t slept with it on hand for more than a year now. He didn’t need it. He was safe, in his own bed, in his own room, on the top floor of his own house. The door was locked; no robbers could get in here, no enemy soldiers. There  _ were _ no enemy soldiers, not now, not anymore.

But suddenly Felix realized he was not alone after all.

The pre-dawn light coming through the curtains revealed a strange dark shape that certainly didn’t belong in Felix’s room. It was a man, to judge by the broadness of the shoulders; his clothing was dark, the bare skin of his hands and neck pale. The predawn light was still too dim to make out the color of his hair, and, though the strange man was facing away from him, Felix had the odd feeling it was someone he knew. 

That hardly comforted him. “Show yourself!” he shouted, leaping to his feet and scanning the room for a weapon. The fireplace poker caught his eye. It would do, he decided, and picked it up like a sword. “Intruder, I see you. Reveal your identity if you value your life.”

Slowly, as if it took immense effort, the man turned. Light from the gap in the curtains hit him square in the face, making his skin glow and seeming to illuminate the entire room.

It was Sylvain, but not as he was now; rather, it was the Sylvain of ten years ago, clad in his Officers Academy uniform. He still had baby fat in his face, a smooth beardless jaw and unscarred cheeks, and that cowlicky, swooping hair he’d worn for most of his life. Yet his expression was one Felix couldn’t recall ever seeing on Sylvain’s face. It wasn’t a smile or a frown, it wasn’t anger or fear or happiness or  _ anything, _ really. His face was perfectly blank, as blank as a corpse’s. 

_This isn’t real,_ Felix thought. _This isn’t real, and this isn’t Sylvain. Sylvain doesn’t even look like this anymore._ He gripped the poker tightly, feeling the cold of metal on his palm and wondering how the sensation could be so vivid in a dream, because this was not reality, _could_ _not be._

The apparition stood still and unmoving, its eyes gazing blankly in Felix’s general direction. Suddenly a thought occurred to Felix - that it could be magic, an illusion, or a person in disguise - and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. That someone would choose Sylvain’s appearance to disguise themself, and not just Sylvain, but the Sylvain of Felix’s memories, young and untouched by war - 

Felix forced himself to take a step towards the intruder. His feet seemed made of lead, and the poker wanted to slide out of his grip, so clammy were his hands. “Who are you?” he barked, voice still throaty with sleep. “State your purpose, and drop that disguise immediately!”

The man did not seem to hear him. He looked for a second at the desk and the papers strewn there, then turned towards the door and began walking slowly, very slowly, in that direction. 

Felix recoiled against his bed. “I  _ will _ attack you if you don’t state your purpose!”

He didn’t know why the apparition scared him so much. Perhaps it was its blankness, or the fact that it inhabited Sylvain’s body, yet was clearly not Sylvain. Though he’d faced down demonic beasts and enemy soldiers much more fearsome than this with little effort on his part, Felix now found himself frozen with fear; he heard his own heartbeat in his ears, faster than it had ever been.

_ Please don’t walk towards me, _ Felix willed; but the thing didn’t seem to care about him at all. It reached the door, which opened under its touch as it would under a normal person’s. The apparition didn’t look back, didn’t pause; it just left, the door shutting behind it with a gentle click.

Felix took a deep, loud breath and barely resisted the urge to collapse back onto his bed. He was much too awake now to believe this was all a dream, and that made him want to vomit. He did not fancy the thought of  _ something _ invading his room, but didn’t love the idea that it was all in his head, either. Had it begun this way for Dimitri, all those years ago?

“No,” Felix said aloud. He dropped the poker on the ground and stepped towards the door, taking a second to steady himself before he threw it open. There was no sign that anyone had been there at all. The hallway was quiet; it was too early even for the servants to be stirring.

Felix paced around the room, filled with a wild energy he couldn’t seem to burn off. What did it mean, what did  _ any of it _ mean? He’d had his fair share of dreams featuring Sylvain, but he’d never hallucinated him before. He’d never hallucinated before, period, and this felt  _ so real -  _

When Felix finally stopped pacing, he threw himself into his desk chair. He didn’t spend much time in his room these days; he did plenty of paperwork, but it was always in his office, on a much larger desk, so this one had not been used in weeks.

It took Felix by surprise to look down and see that the paper on the top of the stack was the draft of a letter to Sylvain. It was less than half finished - barely even started, really. He’d had received Sylvain’s last letter over a month ago, and had always  _ meant _ to respond, but it had been one thing after another, distraction after distraction, chore after chore, meeting after meeting. All he’d composed in the meantime was a bloodless greeting and a few lines about how busy he’d been.  _ Pathetic. _

Felix found Sylvain’s most recent letter and reread it. It was so typically Sylvain - flirty, friendly, and mentioning nothing of problems. He’d barely told Felix anything about how he was doing, another reason Felix hadn’t yet responded. There was so little real substance to respond  _ to. _

That day was supposed to be packed full of meetings and tasks, just as the day before had been, and the day before and the day before, and so on; but as Felix sat at his desk, he couldn’t shake the image of Sylvain’s expressionless face and blank, staring eyes. He decided right then that he could not fulfill his duties. As silly as it sounded - and it  _ did  _ sound silly, very much so - Felix’s feelings had overpowered any sense of logic and reason he might have. He  _ had  _ to see Sylvain, had to replace the image he had in his head with the real, breathing, smiling Sylvain. 

And, he told himself, if this was some strange magic, it was probably best to get out of his house - to go somewhere the magic user wouldn’t know to look. Unless they’d known that making an apparition of Sylvain would make him want to see the real one--

No. Felix shook his head, swallowed, stood. He could not let himself linger on thoughts like this. He would ride at once, alone. The sooner he got there, the sooner he would be able to clear this up and return.

His attendants questioned him a little, but no one voiced much protest. Since it took two days to get to the Gautier estate if one traveled all day, Felix told his staff he’d be gone for five days. It was very short notice, but he hadn’t taken a break in years; his staff could deal with it, and he would sort things out upon his return.

_ In a short time I’ll be looking back on this and laughing, _ Felix thought, packing his provisions.  _ And Goddess knows Sylvain will never stop teasing me about this. I’ll be hearing about this until I’m dead.  _

The fair weather and the sun overhead helped brighten his mood a little, but Felix couldn’t shake the image of the not-Sylvain from his thoughts - and, in a two-day journey, there was far too much time to think.

\---

He arrived at the Gautier estate after dark on the second day. Rain had delayed him a bit that afternoon, but, knowing it was nearby, he’d pressed on; and now he was steering his horse through the gates and up the muddied path. He saw the lights from the mansion glowing warmly, and resisted the urge to push his horse on faster; he was  _ so close. _

Once he was inside the building itself, Felix expected someone to recognize him, to take his coat and escort him to a sitting room; he’d spent enough time here over the years that he figured many of the servants had to know his face. But apparently not: three people passed him by without giving him a second look, just hurrying on as if attending to something far more urgent than him. 

Finally, Felix could take it no more, and pulled the next person he saw aside. “Where is Sylvain?” he said, trying and failing to keep the edge from his voice. 

The girl was young, probably new, and Felix didn’t recognize her. She blinked at him, startled, before lowering her head. “Please follow me, sir,” she said timidly. “I am going to see him myself, in fact.” 

Felix felt a wave of revulsion - was Sylvain still sleeping with everyone he could get his hands on? - but followed the girl anyways, wondering what, exactly, he would be interrupting.

The girl did indeed go straight to Sylvain’s bedroom, then paused and looked Felix up and down, as if only now questioning why he was wandering the house unaccompanied. But whatever conclusion she came to apparently didn’t worry her, because she opened the door and entered without even bothering to knock.

To Felix’s surprise, there were people in Sylvain’s room, a handful of them - an older man Felix recognized as a doctor who’d worked there for a decade, and a handful of other servants. 

In the bed lay Sylvain, holding very, very still.

Felix broke into a run to cross the room. He became vaguely aware of everyone staring at him, but didn’t care; he only had eyes for Sylvain, though it sickened him to look: Sylvain’s face was bloodless and pale, his mouth a thin flat line, his eyes closed. 

“Is he dead?” Felix said, his eyes still fixed as if he spoke to Sylvain himself. 

“No,” someone said. Then a pause, an awkward shuffling, and someone else spoke: “Who are--”

“Duke Fraldarius,” a different voice cut in, “you - how did you come so fast? Did you use magic?”

Felix lifted his head, though he wasn’t sure who exactly had spoken. “No, I rode.”

“Surely the messenger only reached you today?”

“I didn’t  _ get  _ a messenger,” Felix said, feeling annoyed as well as ill now. “Someone tell me what’s going on!”

The doctor cleared his throat. “You came here without receiving the letter?”

“That’s what I’m saying, yes.”

“A strange coincidence…” 

It took all of Felix’s willpower not to throttle the man. “Will  _ someone _ please explain Sylvain’s condition?”

“It was a hunting accident,” another man said. “He fell off his horse and hit his head on a rock. The healer came yesterday afternoon - he’s been asleep ever since.” 

“When did the accident happen?”

“Yesterday,” the man said. “Early. About sunrise.”

Felix felt something twist in his chest. He pushed it down. “So the healer - what did the healer say? His chances-”

“We won’t know until he wakes up.”

Felix stepped back heavily. He felt like crumpling to the floor and just lying there; even standing still took far too much effort. Sylvain looked so dead, so corpselike, so still and small in his enormous bed, so much like a child.

“Your clothes are wet, and you must be exhausted. I’ll have someone prepare a room for you and get you a change of clothes. Have a bath if you wish, and a hot meal. Sylvain will still be here when you’ve finished, and you’ll be more comfortable.”

As if for the first time, Felix felt the uncomfortable weight of his damp clothes. The rain, though brief, had soaked him down to his socks. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, I - thank you.”

He refused the bath, but changed into something dry and ate ravenously. Then he went back to Sylvain’s bedside. Sylvain had not moved.

“It may be days before he wakes up,” the doctor told him. Everyone else had left. 

Felix shrugged and did not look at the man. There was a chair beside the bed, and Felix took a seat, staring mutely down at Sylvain. _ You are a stubborn bastard, _ he thought,  _ but I am more stubborn yet, and I will prove it. _

“Very well,” the doctor simply said, and wished him a good night.

Suddenly Felix was alone with Sylvain - or, rather, Sylvain’s quiet, stone-still body. The seconds ticked by. There was no sound at all, no proof Sylvain even still lived; Felix had to stare for upwards of ten seconds just to make out the tiniest movement in the blankets from drawn breaths. He settled back in his chair. 

“I’ll wait,” he said aloud. Then he thought:  _ Can Sylvain hear me? _

Probably not, Felix figured. But, there was an off-chance that he could. Stranger things had happened.

“It’s Felix,” he said, feeling silly. “I’m here, so don’t keep me waiting.”

Sylvain, of course, said nothing. He looked dead, but he was not; he still breathed, his heart still beat. And for now, that was all that mattered.

Felix settled back in the chair, bracing himself for a long night.

\---

Someone woke him up later by gently shaking his shoulder. Felix had no idea what time it was, except that it was still black outside. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, if it had been one hour or five. 

“Sir,” the man said - a servant, perhaps, though Felix was too groggy to be sure - “please let me show you to the room we’ve prepared for you.” 

Felix glanced at Sylvain: no change.

“I promise, you will be one of the first we alert if there is any change in his condition,” the servant went on. “We check in several times a night, and there is someone with him all day.”

“I’m fine,” Felix said, rearranging his legs; they were terribly stiff. Then he paused, an idea coming to him as his mind woke up. “But you could do me a favor.”

“Yes?”

“Send a messenger to my estate - tell them I’ll be longer than I figured. I don’t know how long. In fact…” He stood, a little unsteadily; sleeping on a chair with his legs curled beneath him had been a terrible idea. “In fact, I’ll write a letter - I’ll bring my business here, for the time being.” 

“Can sending the message perhaps wait until morning?”

Felix looked at the blackness of the window. “Yes,” he said, sitting back down, “I suppose - I suppose it can.”

“You’ve made your mind up about sleeping here tonight?” 

“Yes,” Felix said. “I appreciate your hospitality, but…” 

The man looked at him, and Felix thought,  _ I am too transparent; _ it seemed the man could see right through him, see everything about him in this single moment, though they were strangers until just now. But that was his half-asleep brain talking, of course - and in any event it didn’t matter, not one bit, because anyone would be afraid in this situation, anyone who cared about his wounded friend. Felix lifted his chin, defiant, angry at the thought that he had anything to hide.

“Very well,” the man said at last, nodding curtly. “Please do let someone know if you reconsider, or if there is anything else you need.” 

Felix nodded and curled up again. Within minutes he was asleep.

\---

When he was awoken again, the room was lit up by the sun, and others had returned - a doctor taking Sylvain’s pulse, a servant girl offering Felix tea and pastries. He took the tea and sipped slowly, watching the scene around him. 

_ There is someone with him all day, _ the man had said - so in theory Felix shouldn’t have so guilty at leaving Sylvain alone. He still did, though, still felt a twinge as he stood in the doorway, and gave one more glance over his shoulder before leaving.  _ It doesn’t matter if he wakes up when I’m not here, _ Felix reminded himself.  _ He won’t be alone. _ Waking up with a doctor or a servant beside you was better than no one; Sylvain would be fine. Yet as much as he tried, Felix’s guilt could not entirely be reasoned away.

He sent the message to his estate, then took a walk around the Gautier mansion. Afterwards, he stopped back in on Sylvain: no change. So Felix ate lunch, and walked some more, then just took a book and sat with Sylvain because, honestly, there was no way he’d be productive, not like this. His head was a mess, and it was impossible to fight the urge to check in on Sylvain every few minutes.  _ Ridiculous. _

The day dragged on and on with no updates. Evening came, and then night, and Felix let himself be cajoled into eating dinner. Then he was back in Sylvain’s room once more. Eventually he was alone there; he tried to stay up reading, but eventually drifted off to sleep in his chair, just as he had the night before.

Felix awoke when it was still dark, his heart beating fast. But there was enough light from the moon for him to glance around and see he was alone, and after a second he relaxed. Then he heard what must have woken him up: a faint rustling, the soft sound of fabric against fabric. And then, so quiet as to be almost inaudible, breaths - louder now than before. Sylvain’s.

Felix leapt to his feet and scrabbled to light a candle. After a moment he did it, and Sylvain stared back at him through tired, barely-open eyes. “Felix?” he asked, his mouth audibly dry. 

“Here,” Felix said, putting down the candle and grabbing water, which he held against Sylvain’s lips. When he was done Felix set the water down again, and for a second all he could do was stare. After looking for so long at his sleeping form, Felix could hardly believe Sylvain was at last awake.

“Why are you here?” Sylvain said. “Why’re - what’s going on?”

That he did not immediately start his usual wisecracking upon waking up showed that, clearly, Sylvain was not back to his usual self. Not that Felix would have expected that, not right away. “I wasn’t here, but I was told you fell off your horse and hit your head,” he said. “Got yourself a pretty nasty head injury. They healed you up, but you slept for a long time.” 

“How long?” Sylvain reached an arm up and gingerly touched his scalp, pressing and prodding as if looking for his wound. But Felix did not see him wince in pain: apparently it was, in fact, entirely healed.

Felix considered the question, counting the days in his head. “Almost three days ago,” he said. “Early in the morning on the fifteenth.”

“The fifteenth…” 

“And, if it’s after midnight, it’s the eighteenth today.”

“The eighteenth…”

“Are you hungry?” Felix said. “No - maybe I should just get the doctor. Although I don’t know where he’s staying, but I could look-”

“Felix,” Sylvain said, “something’s not adding up.”

A grin was spreading across his face. He looked like someone who’d just woken up from a long slumber, of course - his hair greasy and sticking up in all directions, his eyes red and crusty - but he also looked mischievous and playful, more like the Sylvain Felix remembered. And that made Felix swallow with nervousness, because he could guess what this was about.

“I know how long it takes to get from your place to mine,” Sylvain said. “I know how long it takes when someone’s rushing their fastest. And, unless both you and the messenger traveled without sleeping at all… I just don’t get how you can be here now if I just got hurt three days ago.”

Felix sighed and looked away, not sure how to put everything into words.

“You were already coming to see me, weren’t you,” Sylvain said, his grin spreading. “Or were you on the hunting trip with me?”

“You don’t remember it at all?”

“No,” Sylvain said. “Not - not really. Not well.” 

“I wasn’t on the hunting trip with you,” Felix said. “But… I didn’t wait for a messenger. I…”

“Aww,” Sylvain said, “you were coming to see me!” 

Before Felix could respond Sylvain began to cough, and reached a hand out towards the glass of water. Felix handed it to him, and Sylvain drained it. 

“Let me get more of that for you,” Felix said.”

“Hang on,” Sylvain said. “Please. Just answer my question.”

“What?” 

_ “Were _ you coming to see me? Is that… am I right?”

Sylvain sounded so pleading, as if he were an inch from begging. It reminded Felix of how he’d spoken to girls, back when they were schoolboys.

“It’s… complicated,” Felix said, and then, against his better judgment, he made up his mind to tell Sylvain everything. He didn’t know what it meant, didn’t want to lend it a single additional moment’s thought, but at this point it felt like keeping the apparition secret was burning a hole in his chest. 

Sylvain listened in silence as Felix told his story, never laughing, just looking concerned and sympathetic. When it was done - and it didn’t take long; Felix was never one for embellishment - Sylvain was quiet for a long time afterwards.

“So you think this… this vision of me, or whatever - you think it appeared at the same time as my injury?” he said at last.

“It seems like it did.”

“The exact same time?”

“I don’t know,” Felix said. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Sylvain laughed, though to Felix’s ears the sound rang false. “It’s a bit of a romantic idea, isn’t it? That when I was near death, my soul fled my body and came to visit you one last time?”

“Romantic?” Felix said. “I suppose. I wouldn’t I believe it if anyone else told it to me, but I saw it with my own eyes, and I don’t know how to explain it away. Obviously it was connected to your accident  _ somehow.” _

“You should ask someone about it. Mercedes, maybe, or Linhardt. Who knows, could have been happened before.” 

“Maybe,” Felix said. “You don’t remember anything from the past few days?”

“You mean, like, when I was unconscious?”

Felix nodded.

“Nope. Not a thing. Didn’t dream, either. Last thing I remember is getting ready for the hunt, but the memory’s pretty spotty. But if I really did send my soul out of my body, I’m glad you’re the one it brought back.”

He said the last sentence in a way that made Felix recoil - sickly-sweet, as if Felix was a girl he was trying to woo. “Stop it, Sylvain.” 

“Stop what?”

“Stop talking to me like that! I didn’t come all this way just to hear the same thing you say to every woman you set eyes on. It’s just like your letters,” Felix went on. “All surface, no substance. I can’t say anything in response when I know it’s all half-truths or lies.”

Sylvain’s smile had faded, and Felix knew what would come next - his over-the-top hurt face, the puppy dog eyes, the sad little frown. Felix wasn’t going to have it. “I’m leaving,” he said. “I’m going to find someone - you should probably see the doctor. They’ll be able to handle things from here.”

“Felix, wait.” Sylvain’s hand shot out towards him, but didn’t quite reach. Then, louder: “Felix,  _ please.” _

As he stopped and turned, Felix  _ loathed  _ himself. He felt like the stupidest fool in the world, taken in even though he knew all of Sylvain’s tricks. “What?” he hissed, his eyes narrowed, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “What is it? What the hell do you want?” 

“I wasn’t kidding,” Sylvain said. “I wasn’t - I wasn’t just putting you on. I’m honestly really glad to see you. When I woke up and saw you, I wasn’t sure it was real, because I’d dreamed of something like that for a long time.”

“Ugh, Sylvain, you haven’t changed at all.”

“You wouldn’t know,” Sylvain said. “Felix, we haven’t seen each other in  _ years.” _

“But I know you. I know your tricks, no matter how much time’s passed. I regret even coming here. I should have just ignored what I’d seen and let it go.” 

“Felix,” Sylvain said, sitting up rather awkwardly in bed. “I’m really, honestly glad you’re here.”

Felix had to concede that Sylvain’s tone  _ might  _ have been sincere, although he still held some doubt. “I… was very concerned for you when I found out what had happened,” Felix said. “You could have died.” 

“But I didn’t.” Sylvain smiled, though it lasted only a moment. “Felix…” 

“What?”

“Sit back down.”

Felix did so, but kept his arms crossed. “I really should get the doctor again, you know.” 

“It can wait til morning. I feel alright.”

“They’ll probably check in on you soon, anyways,” Felix said, remembering the doctor’s words. “They look in a few times a night, I was told.”

“See? It’s just fine. You don’t need to get the doctor at all.”

“Then why do I need to stay?”

Instead of brushing him off with some shallow phrase, as Felix expected, Sylvain was quiet - so quiet that Felix began to grow worried. “Did you fall asleep?” he asked, but facetiously, because Sylvain was still looking at him, his eyes glittering in the candlelight.

When Sylvain finally spoke, his voice was so soft Felix had to lean in closer to hear him. “I have spent the last two years missing you terribly,” he said, and Felix, paralyzed, felt a shock go through him at the words. “No - longer than that. I… liked the war, in a way. How it brought us back together. I liked fighting at your side. I wish I could spend peacetime at your side.”

Felix was glad the light was so dim; Sylvain probably could not see him blushing. “Well, I can come over more,” Felix said. “Even when you’re not dying, probably.” 

“Felix,” Sylvain said, “I love you.”

_ This isn’t fair, _ Felix thought, angry. He wanted to leap to his feet, but he didn’t have the energy; he just felt tired, so tired, tired down to his bones. “Stop using those lines again,” he said. “Have you mixed up who you’re talking to?” 

“No. Felix. I love you.”

“Sylvain!”

“You don’t have to say anything in response. Or, well, take your time! It’s fine if you don’t feel anything like that towards me, totally fine. I’d just like to see you more, if that’s alright with you.”

It was a decidedly awkward thing to say, and not a very Sylvainish one. Felix felt his heart speed up as he realized this situation, one he’d envisioned in his head more times than he’d care to admit, was actually happening. Sylvain was quite confessing to him, Sylvain had said he  _ loved _ him, and there was a chance it wasn’t all a lie. 

“Sylvain,” Felix said, “if this is a joke, this is going to ruin our friendship forever.” 

“It isn’t a joke. I wouldn’t joke like this, not with you.”

Felix got out of the chair and sat on the edge of the bed. “You are an idiot,” he said. “If you really feel this way, why haven’t you come to see me in the last two years?”

“I tried visiting you! Remember how I came by to say hello, and you chased me away, told me you were busy?”

“I  _ was _ busy.”

“And I tried again, and it was nice to see you - but you never returned the visit, and I assumed...”

“You shouldn’t have assumed anything,” Felix said. He sighed. “I missed you, too. I wanted you to visit again. Honestly, I should have come here earlier.”

“It’s fine,” Sylvain said. “Now that I know, I’ll be sure to pay you another visit. You might end up regretting you told me.”

The overly-cheery tone was back, the flippant smile. Felix frowned. “Sylvain.”

“Hm?”

“I…” 

It was hard to speak, hard for Felix to say the things that were in his head - harder still because his tiredness was catching up with him.  _ Do you really love me? Do you remember that you said the same things to a dozen girls during your year at the monastery, and left them all without shedding a tear? How am I supposed to believe you mean it?  _

It all hinged on  _ trust  _ \- did Felix trust that Sylvain valued this, valued their friendship, their history? Did Felix trust that Sylvain would treat him differently than he treated all those women?

No. Felix didn’t trust him, not entirely. But sometimes, one had to take risks. Turning away and clenching his hands into fists, Felix said: “I love you too.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Felix said. “I won’t say it again. So if you were lying-”

A hand on his hand, warm and sweat-damp. Felix turned back.

Sylvain wore an expression Felix had never seen before, or at least not in a long time: eyes wide, mouth open slightly, brow furrowed. He looked breathlessly hopeful, and very, very vulnerable. 

“You weren’t lying,” Felix said.

“No. I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t joking.”

“No.”

“Since we were students together,” Felix said. “I thought it was a child’s crush, really, like my old feelings for you had just gotten warped. I thought they’d fade. But they didn’t.” 

“I’m such an idiot,” Sylvain said, slapping his forehead with his free hand. His other hand still rested atop Felix’s. “Felix, we’re both idiots!” 

“Yes,” Felix said carefully, and flipped his hand around so his palm was against Sylvain’s. “I suppose so. But you can hardly blame me, with how you acted. And I still don’t know if I believe-”

He cut himself off. He did believe. The look on Sylvain’s face had been enough. 

“Felix, I’ll say it again and again,” Sylvain said. “I love you. I love you. I-”

“Shut up,” Felix growled. Somehow Sylvain’s fingers had become intertwined with his own. 

“I’m glad you’re not the joking type - I’m not sure my heart could take it. I’d just go back on another hunting trip, with a taller horse this time.” 

“Sylvain-”

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain said, and gave Felix’s hand a squeeze. “Look,  _ will _ you say it again? I barely heard you the first time. I - you don’t have to, I just…”

“Do you promise to shut up?”

“Yes.”

Felix gritted his teeth and looked at a point in the distance, somewhere over Sylvain’s shoulder. “I love you.” 

“You sound so  _ angry  _ though…”

“You got what you asked for,” Felix said, and tore his hand from Sylvain’s grasp; but when Sylvain reached for it again, he gave it up without complaint. “I won’t say it again.” 

“Ever?”

“Sylvain,” Felix said abruptly, “what are we going to do?” 

Felix was not talking about the next day or week, but a much longer period of time. Sylvain, somehow, seemed to know what he meant. “We’ll see each other a  _ lot _ more,” he said, after a pause. “I don’t know what will happen in the end, but… it’ll all work itself out.”

“That isn’t very comforting.” 

“No?” Sylvain smiled, and though it seemed genuine, to Felix’s eye Sylvain looked bone-tired. “Things have always worked themselves out in the past, haven’t they? Besides… I’m not going to just let things passively  _ happen. _ I’ll make sure things will work out, no matter what.”

Felix made a  _ tsk _ sound. “Now that you’ve gotten the conversation you wanted, maybe you should actually rest. I’m sure your body’s got more healing to do.”  _ And I’m exhausted,  _ he thought, but didn’t say. “You know I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“This is a big bed, Felix. Why don’t you sleep here tonight?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Aww, but-”

“Someone will be by to check on you any time now, and I’d rather not be caught in your bed,” Felix said, rising. “In fact… in fact, I’d better grab someone now, or else I’ll just get woken up again.” 

Sylvain protested, but weakly; Felix got the impression their conversation had taken a lot of out of him. He picked up the candle and headed for the door; just as he was about to leave the room, he heard Sylvain call out softly: “Felix?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Idiot,” Felix said, but fondly, and turned so Sylvain wouldn’t see his smile.

\--

Sylvain made a full recovery; the time he’d spent asleep had just been his body’s way of healing the injury, the doctor said, and he’d suffer no permanent effects. 

“Don’t worry,” he told Sylvain, as Felix looked on. “Nothing’s changed.”

But, of course,  _ everything  _ had. Felix felt it in the way Sylvain looked at him - the weight of that gaze, the meaning it held - and Felix knew he wore the same expression every time he looked at Sylvain. After years of tempering his feelings, of pushing them down, finally he did not need to. He could look openly at the man he loved with all the hunger and affection and longing he’d held inside for so long. 

Still, being  _ with _ Sylvain wouldn’t be a perfect fit, not with their lives; they could not exactly become roommates, could they? - not with their estates to run, their titles to uphold. 

“But I’ll visit you all the time,” Sylvain said. “Every chance I get.”

“You will get absolutely  _ no  _ work done.”

“That’s alright with me. Some things are just more important, you know?”

“You’ll get a bad reputation.”

“As if I don’t already?” Sylvain said, laughing like he’d scored a point.

“You are known for being  _ lecherous, _ not lazy.”

“Nothing wrong with being called both. Look, Felix, you’ve gotta visit me sometimes, too, you know? And respond to my letters.” 

“I will,” Felix said, and felt a pang of guilt for how infrequently he’d done both of those in the past. But it would be easier to write now, he hoped: both of them could say what they meant, and Sylvain would no longer have to hide behind his niceties. And visiting, well, he’d find the time.

“You promise?”

“Yes,” Felix said, and Sylvain smiled - not his friendly, false smile, but a more honest expression, one that fit him better. It made Felix feel warm to know he’d caused it. It was the sort of expression he did not think he could get sick of seeing. 

“I love you,” Sylvain said. 

And just because he didn’t want that smile to vanish, Felix said, for what must have been the thousandth time in three days, “I love you too.” 

Sylvain squeezed his hand tighter, and Felix thought:  _ Maybe it will all work out, _ and smiled, too.

**Author's Note:**

> [meeeeee](https://twitter.com/doop_doop2)


End file.
